Chapter 4
“FOLLOW YOU” brING ME THE HORIZON
I swear I’ll end Mickey. Even if it’s the last thing I do before I grow up and ditch this town. Blood trickles from my nose to my busted upper lip, and I don’t bother swiping it away. The bleeding slowed on my walk back to Jerry’s house from hanging out with my friends in town.
I couldn’t enjoy one day with them without Mickey finding us and starting a fight. He may have gotten me a few times, but at least he’s now sporting a black eye, along with scratches over his cheek from when I shoved him onto the asphalt outside the mall’s entrance.
Keeping my head ducked, I walk through the large house that smells so different from the place where I came from.
It doesn’t have the sweet notes to it like the air fresheners my mother uses.
It’s earthy and smells like leather, along with a stale, sour scent I can’t put my finger on. Jerry smells exactly like this.
Rage bubbles in my veins at the reminder of my stepfather. Hatred twists my insides, and all I want to do is take all of this anger out on him. I don’t care that I spent all of my energy on fighting Mickey and that Jerry will easily overpower me.
I hate it here.
I hate him.
I hate his daughter.
I even hate my mother for marrying that asshole.
My steps slow as I slip out the back door to hide in my bedroom. Madison’s back is to me as she sits on the top step, blocking my escape.
My eyes narrow. She never hides like this.
My fists clench at my sides.
It doesn’t matter why she’s hiding. It’s not my problem. I storm toward the stairs, not caring if I have to shove her out of the way so I can go to my room.
Madison doesn’t look at me, despite hearing my loud footsteps.
She keeps her head bowed, her hair curtaining her face and hiding her from the outside world.
Her arms are wrapped around her bent legs, making her look smaller and more fragile.
Something I haven’t seen her do when I steal glances at her from time to time.
I shove past her, using my leg to force her to make room, but she doesn’t make a sound. I descend two steps before the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck and arms stand on alert. A strange feeling tugs at my insides, and I can’t pinpoint what, exactly, it is.
Slowly, I peek at her over my shoulder. It’s not that I care about her. It’s more out of curiosity and annoyance. Normally, she’d grunt, then whine at me for being a jerk.
Madison keeps her gaze downcast, completely avoiding looking at me. Her cheeks and nose are flushed pink, and her eyes are swollen and shiny from crying.
The same strange feeling returns to my chest and strengthens at the sight of her tears.
I glance past her, toward the back door, then at her again.
Sighing, I stomp up the two stairs and sit beside her.
I stare straight ahead, not saying a word, but her silence grates on my nerves.
For the first time since moving into this house and being around Madison, I silently call a temporary truce.
Despite hating her guts, I don’t like seeing her upset.
“What happened?” I ask after a while.
From my periphery, I watch her head turn toward me. Sadness darkens her eyes, and her lips don’t pull up in the tiny smile she usually offers whenever she looks at me. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I clench my jaw and force myself to ignore the blood drying on my upper lip. I have no need to be ashamed of it. I don’t care what people think about the bruises and cuts I get from Mickey and Jerry. That ship sailed long ago.
“I asked you first.” I shoot her a glare from the corner of my eye.
She turns forward again and stares sightlessly at her bent knees. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t care.”
My fingers curl into my palms, and I fist my hands until my knuckles turn white.
Silence stretches between us, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
I won’t coddle her just to learn why she’s crying, even though it’s eating at me.
She chose to be out here alone when she could have gone to her aunt and cried about it to her.
“Look,” I say, losing my inner battle, “I normally wouldn’t care, but this isn’t like you. If someone hurt you, I wanna know.”
Madison tenses, and she peeks at me. “For all you know, this could be normal for me.”
“It’s not.” I scowl at her.
I watch her more often than she thinks. Over the years, I’ve learned her habits and her personality.
It started out as getting to know my enemy.
Wanting to find her weaknesses to use against her and make her hate me.
But at some point, I did these things more out of curiosity than anything else.
I want to know why she hangs around Mickey and the others.
I still haven’t figured out the reason, but I will. It’s just a matter of time.
Madison blinks, and it chases away some of the sadness lingering in her gaze. She averts her eyes and mumbles, “I feel like I have no control over anything.”
I cock my head but say nothing, allowing her the space and time needed to gather her thoughts.
“I just want to live my life. I want to play with my friends, not go to stupid lessons.” She sucks in a shuddering breath.
The summer sunlight reflects in her tear-filled eyes, making her brown irises appear lighter, with different shades speckling near her pupils.
I hate how looking at them softens me toward her.
How I think she’s pretty, even while crying.
Madison turns to me and swipes a straggling tear from her cheek. “I hate feeling like this. Like I have to be careful what I say and what I do around certain people.”
“Certain people?”
She nods. “I’ll tell you a little secret.”
I straighten and fold my arms over my chest when I realize I’ve been leaning closer to Madison and hanging on her every word.
“I don’t like Mickey and his friends,” she says. “They’re a bunch of jerks, and I hate how they treat you and the others.”
Rage rushes through my veins and I bite out, “Then why do you hang out with them?”
“Because they’ll turn against me. I don’t want that.”
I turn my head forward and glare straight ahead as I digest her words. As much as it annoys me that she’d rather stick around with Mickey, I now understand why she does it. It’s self-preservation. Keep your friends close and enemies closer.
“Are you going to tell me who did that to you?” Madison’s soft voice draws me out of my thoughts.
I blink and shift my focus to her. “Guess.”
She flinches, her shoulders tensing and touching the bottoms of her ears.
“Mickey,” she whispers.
I nod once.
Madison leaps to her feet and brings me with her.
She grabs my hand and drags me across the balcony and inside the house.
I stare at the back of her head, confused but not saying a word.
Probably because I’m curious about what she’s doing and why she has a determined expression on her face.
She leads me upstairs and into her bedroom, and then into her adjoined bathroom.
“Sit.” She pushes me onto the small loveseat chair tucked against the far wall. I don’t know why she has a chair in her bathroom, but I don’t question it. Her family comes from money. Enough said.
I watch Madison as she rummages through the cabinets under the sink until she pulls out cotton balls and Band-Aids. My eyebrows slash down as she approaches me with the items and a tiny smile.
“I’ll get you cleaned up,” she says.
I stay silent as she pulls out a cotton ball and dampens it with water, then dabs it beneath my nose. I stare at her face, analyzing her micro-expressions as she concentrates on removing the blood.
Why is she doing this?
Why is she helping me?
No one’s taken care of me.
No one’s cleaned my wounds or softened their touch to ensure they don’t hurt me.
No one cares about me. So why is she pretending to?
My heart thumps faster, banging against my ribs as a swirl of tension and nerves builds in my chest. I catch Madison’s wrist, stopping her from helping me. She meets my gaze, surprise and a hint of fear reflecting in her eyes.
“Ryder?” she whispers.
“Stop pretending.” My grip tightens on her wrist.
She blinks. “Pretending what?”
“Pretending that you care.” My hands tremble, and the strong, foreign emotions tighten my chest.
What is this feeling? I’m supposed to hate her, not feel this .
It’s tender. Too fucking tender.
Madison shakes her head. “I’m not pretending. I do care about you, and I meant it when I said I hate what Mickey does to you.”
“You don’t know me.” I swallow hard and bite back the insults clinging to the tip of my tongue. I want to lash out, to push her away from me. To make her hate me and for me not to feel this way about her.
She cares.
She sees me.
She’s seeing too much.
Madison’s gaze softens. “I know you more than you think.”
My face blanks and everything in me shatters. She’s breaking through my barriers, one wall at a time. She knows too much.
A lump forms in my throat, and I shove her away from me. Madison gasps and stumbles backward, giving me enough room to slip past her. I flee out of the bathroom with my legs trembling and heart racing.
“Ryder!” Madison calls from behind.
I ignore her and storm down the stairs and out the back door. My breath comes out in sharp, quick pants as panic grips me in a chokehold.
These feelings . . .
I know what they are now.